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HARVEY’S ILLUSTRATIONS 



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OUR COUNTRY. 



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HARVEY’S ILLUSTRATIONS 


OF THE 






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OUR COUNTRY, 


WITH A SKELETON MAP OF THE GULF STREAM AND THERMAL ZONES, EXPLANATORY 
OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF CLIMATE ; TOGETHER WITH MUCH INFORMATION 
RELATING TO THE EARLY ASPECT OF NORTH AMERICA, 


BEING 


AN EPITOME OF THE INTRODUCTION 


TO THE 


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EIGHT LECTURES 


WHICH THE ARTIST HAD THE HONOR OP DELIVERING BEFORE THE MEMBERS OF THE 


Hagai' institution nf (®reat Britain, 


IN 1849, AND SUBSEQUENTLY BEFORE MANY OTHER LITERARY SOCIETIES OF 
ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND, ENTITLED THE 


DISCOVERY, RESOURCES AND PROGRESS OF NORTH 
AMERICA, NORTH OF VIRGINIA, 


ILLUSTRATED BY MORE THAN SIXTY PICTORIAL VIEWS. 


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BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY DUTTON & WENTWORTH, 
No. 37, Congress Street. 

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ADDRESS 


In the ordering of Divine Providence, it seems that this vast continent 
is to be inhabited by a multiplicity of races, who will become fused 
into one people, like the English in the present day, by a common 
language ; whose laws and literature, and even religion, will probably 
receive an impress in unison with some general type of humanity, 
whereby a glorious future will bless, not only ourselves, but man¬ 
kind; when, in the language of Scripture, 

“ Righteousness and peace shall kiss each other.” 

And who or what is it, by which so great a change in the world 
is to be achieved ? Truly no individual person or race can say, I or 
we have done this great thing. A mysterious and sovereign Power, 
who spake by prophets, has revealed himself, and He alone is enti¬ 
tled to the glory. But does He not use many agents ? Does the 
Divine grace make all prophets equal ? Are there not messengers 
who may be called lesser prophets ; for does not mighty genius 
receive its gift of grace and power, for earth’s government of men from 
above ; not so much in the form of kingly rule alone, as in delegated 
trust and authority ? These are truths taught and believed in by 
the majority of those 

— who speak the tongue that Shakspeare spake, 

The faith and morals hold that Milton held,” 

We’re heirs and conjoined heirs, for freedom’s sake j 
So taught, by truths from holy fountains well'd. 

Beside these moral agents, there are causes at work in the physical 
world—i n fact the moral and physical are never separated in this 
life —which act and re-act on each other, by causes that are as deep as 
old ocean’s floods, and in the intellectual one as high as bright heaven. 
They both co-operate to bring about that consummation the inspired 
prophets have recorded. It is an indisputable fact, that material 
things produce or greatly change man’s thoughts and actions. “ For 
we cannot handle pitch without being defiled,” or drink of wine to 




4 


excess without being drunk, nor eat much of opium without stupefaction 
ensuing, even terminating in death. 

We propose briefly to explain our meaning. In the first instance, 
we will look at the influence which climate has on body, and conse¬ 
quently on mind. The map before us will do useful service in the 
explanation. 

Every one has heard of the Gulf Stream and the trade winds, but 
few have speculated on the physical influences these have had in pre¬ 
paring the intellectual soil, so to speak, whereby the genius of the 
two great men we have named, Shakspeare and Milton, besides a 
host of others of scarcely lesser note, who have been enabled, by 
the health-giving vigor of a mild climate, to flourish and mature 
heaven-born thought, causing that peaceable admixture of many races 
into one people, witnessed in the parent land, and with whom we form, 
in a catholic sense, an integral part. This fusion — this intellectualiz- 
ing — is going on in the present day with ourselves, for God is 
“ raising up a mighty people, zealous of good works.” 

Now we propose to speak of this Gulf Stream. The diurnal motion 
of the earth from west to east carries its fluid and serial portions with 
it, but as these less ponderous bodies are attracted by the planets and 
worlds around, they—the atmosphere and the ocean—do not move 
with the same velocity as the solid portions of the earth. Hence the 
serial tide called the trade winds, blowing with slight modifications 
continually from the east to the west, and the equatorial current of the 
ocean passing in the same direction round the Cape of Good Hope, are 
the effects. 

Philosophers have generally contented themselves by attributing the 
trade winds to the rarefaction of the air by a vertical sun. This ex¬ 
planation, however, fails of application to the ocean current. The 
rarefaction, both of air and water, doubtless co-operates with the diur¬ 
nal motion of the earth, but of itself, it cannot produce those deep 
currents which experiments have demonstrated to exist in the middle 
of the Atlantic. 

The equatorial current, when it reaches the coast of the Brazils in 
South Americans for the most part deflected by the north-west direction 
of the land, into the Caribbean Sea, where its further western course is 
impeded by the Isthmus of Darien. Here the level of the water is 
said to be twenty-five feet higher than on the western side, and two 
feet still higher in the Gulf of Mexico, where the current receives the 
drainage of the Mississippi Valley. This great mass of accumulated 
waters now finds an outlet between the Island of Cuba and the Florida 
Cape, at the rate of about one hundred miles in the twenty-four hours, 


5 


and thence pursues a parallel course along the coast of the United 
States, till it reaches the polar currents coming from Davis’s Straits 
and the waters of the St. Lawrence, where a la*rge eddy is formed at 
the south-east part of Newfoundland. Here the force of the Gulf 
Stream is much weakened, and allows a deposit of whatever is borne 
along or rolled over at the lowest depths. The deposits thus brought 
from the south, have formed the Banks of Newfoundland, and which are 
known to be increasing in height, by a comparison of the soundings of 
the present day with those recorded in ancient charts. 

Another phenomenon has of late years been observed, which doubt¬ 
less somewhat accelerates the apparent increase. It is the gradual 
upraising of Nova Scotia, attributed to volcanic action, and is similar to 
the one which has been going on for centuries in Sweden and Norway. 

These Banks of Newfoundland constituting the fishing ground for 
Great Britain, France, Holland, and for ourselves, extend in an east¬ 
erly direction, and from recent soundings are found to extend to within 
a few hundred miles of Ireland. The dotted marks on the map describe 
the form and direction of this embryo continent. 

There is not a particle of rock which the surf of the ocean wears 
away from the shores of the Brazils or from the West India Islands, 
but, in the process of time, is borne along and deposited on these banks. 
Thus we perceive there is a vast continent being formed, and the aggre¬ 
gation or growth observed in the course of ages, is capable of being 
recorded, so that future generations, if not the present, can predict 
when dry land will appear. 

The warmth of the waters in the Gulf of Mexico is 82 degrees, but 
as it passes north, it loses about one degree of heat for every three 
degrees of latitude. When it reaches the confluence of the waters 
issuing out of the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the cold polar current, it 
suddenly loses a great part of its warmth and gives rise to the fogs 
prevalent in those regions. The main body of the Gulf Stream, 
however, lying further south, is not so much affected as that near the 
Banks, but is driven across the Atlantic by the prevalence of westerly 
winds, and in its progress carries a gradually diminished warmth to 
the British Islands. The warmth thus derived causes that peculiarly 
mild temperature so singularly characteristic of their climates. Ire¬ 
land, receiving its first warm embrace, is continually bedewed in 
gentle showers, rapidly alternating with a hazy sunshine, and produces 
that perpetual verdure which entitles it to receive the appropriate name 
of Emerald Isle. 

The current of the ocean is hence deflected southerly along the 



6 


western shores of France, Spain, Portugal and Africa, till it joins the 
equatorial current passing round the Cape of Good Hope, first alluded 
to. The circuit now described, may be termed an immense oceanic 
whirlpool, which is computed to take about three y^ _ to complete 
its course. 

Much more could be added to thi a^m ere outline, but enough has 
been said for our purpose to show how Great Britain derives her tem¬ 
perate climate. This mild temperature has been thought to contribute 
to that healthiness whereby her great men have been enabled to obtain 
a clear-headed perception of deep truths, and which has enabled them 
to impress their convictions on the minds of others less intellectually 
gifted. Those who are familiar with the names of the great men whom 
Britain has delighted to honor, besides others who have passed unno¬ 
ticed to the tomb, need not be told that such a galaxy of genius never 
shone forth in any other land within the like narrow limits. 

Climate, however, unaided by other causes, it seems is not suf¬ 
ficient to produce the intellectual effects alluded to; there must be 
a fusion of blood also. Continual intermarriage, which is doubtless 
the origin of what is termed race, has been forbidden by revelation, 
from its tendency to strengthen animal propensities rather than de¬ 
velop intellectual ones. The English and the Americans, therefore, 
having descended from many progenitors, may be a cause for that 
activity of intellectual and moral energy we witness. 

We have now briefly shown how the continent of America, by its 
geographical position, has allied itself to Europe, through its physical 
influence on climate but more particularly to Great Britain ; and we are 
witnessing in the present day how she is repaying the material good 
by her intellectual maturing, and impressing on us moral benefits, 
which when adopted by us will become world-wide in their operations. 
Providence has doubtless ordained this action and reaction, this inter¬ 
change of physical and moral benefits, for the perfecting of humanity, 
whereby, in the fulness of time, the world is to witness the millennium 
foretold in the Scriptures. 

We have spoken, incidentally, of the prevalence of westerly winds 
in the fortieth and more northern parallels of latitude. We have, 
however, said nothing explanatory as to the cause producing them. 
We will briefly do sd now. Those who have witnessed the operations 
of a fan bellows, or of a fanning mill, will have noticed that as the 
wind which is projected at the outer edge of the fan, will also have 
noticed the current of air drawn in through the opening left for the 
purpose at the axis. This phenomena is somewhat analogous, for the 


7 


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north polar currents, both of air and water, before they tend to the 
equator, move with an uncertain though general direction to the south¬ 
east, south, south-west, and finally, near the equator, due west, where 
they are known as the trade-wind and the equatorial current. Thus, 
this wind and the ocean current may be compared with those effects 
produced by a fanning-mill in motion, as can be easily demonstrated by 
turning rapidly a large globe with a rough surface. You will perceive, 
by using a delicate feather, very little air moving near the axis, but as 
you approach your test, the feather, towards the equator of the model, 
you will witness the phenomena described as prevailing on the surface of 
our earth, with this difference, that electricity, evaporation and clouds 
are continually doing their appointed offices to alter and modify the 
general laws we have thus briefly attempted to unfold. 

Let us now apply these facts to the north of this continent. The 
winds, sweeping across from the west, bring with them the vapors of the 
Pacific, and also something of the temperature of the ocean, which is 
left, in its eastern progress, for the most part, on the west of the Rocky 
Mountains. On the east of that barrier, the showers of rain are not 
as frequent as near the ocean. The earth, therefore, in summer, becomes 
parched, and droughts are of frequent occurrence. In July, August, 
and September, these prevalent winds, passing over a heated surface, 
raise the thermometer to 90 and sometimes even to 100 deg. In 
winter time, the reverse takes place, for when snow covers the earth 
a north-westerly wind will send the mercury in the thermometer down 
to twenty or thirty degrees below zero. The thermal lines drawn 
on the map will explain the vicissitudes of climate. You will perceive 
that as you recede from the Pacific shore how very marked are the 
alternations of heat and cold, and that near the ocean the extremes of 
temperature are nothing like as great. The climates of the western 
coasts of Europe and those of America, are, therefore, very similar; 
those of the former, however, are more genial, arising from the Gulf 
Stream circling around them, bringing a warmer temperature than 
otherwise could be obtained. 

What we have said, is not a tithe of the interesting matter which 
the subject is capable of affording, but which we think, were we to 
indulge longer on the theme, might prove tedious to a mixed audience. 
We have, however, a few words to say in regard to the suggestion 
emanating from that very distinguished philosopher, Baron Yon Hum¬ 
boldt. He has recommended that the surface of the globe should be 
divided into zones of temperature, as being more exact in noting cli¬ 
matic differences than those indicated by degrees of latitude. His 



8 


suggestion is, that there should be three lines, which he terms thermal 
zones. The one recording the average temperature of the entire year, 
to be called isothermal,* that of the winter, isocheimal, and the third, 
that of summer, isotheral. 

These lines you will perceive centre at Fort Vancouver on the Pa¬ 
cific shores, and diverge in a remarkable degree as they proceed east¬ 
ward, till they reach the Valley of the Mississippi, from whence they 
pursue a nearly parallel course to the Atlantic. The average summer 
temperature of sixty-five, as marked on the map, however, is greatly 
affected when it approaches the vicinity of the Lakes. The radiating 
and absorbing properties of water are the causes of the curvings noted 
on the map. These lines or zones, indicate the average heat of the 
seasons ; for instance, the isothermal zone of 81, in Florida, shows the 
temperature of the year to be but one degree cooler than the waters of 
the Gulf of Mexico. 

From what we have said in regard to the causes producing difference 
of climate, it is very obvious that the seasons of this continent can 
never approximate in character to those of the 'British isles. How far 
the severe vicissitudes of temperature, to which we are subject, will 
affect our moral and physical characters in the course of many genera¬ 
tions, and alter the original European type, intellectually, it is idle to 
speculate upon, but we may hope, judging from what we perceive has 
already taken place, that no deterioration will ensue. 

This department of our evening’s amusement we will now dismiss, 
leaving the outline just gone over, to be filled up by other concurring 
knowledge which study and your leisure may afford. We will, how¬ 
ever, remark that the subject so briefly outlined this evening, as to 
occupy but a few minutes in discussing, in the lecture delivered by 
Mr. Harvey, at the Royal Institution of Great Britain, consumed nearly 
an entire hour. 

* From the Greek “ iso/’ equal; “ thermal,” heat, as applied to the average temperature 
of the year ; isocheimal, equal or average winter, and isotheral, equal or average summer. 


PICTORIAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The arrival of a Settler's Family at their new home in the Wilderness . 

The scene before us represents an important epoch in the life of a 
western pioneer ; it is the arrival of his wife and family at their new 
abode* 

A common course for those of yankee origin, when their growing 
families render a removal to a new country a matter of prudential 
economy, is to discuss the matter for some time before putting the pro¬ 
ject into operation. When a removal has been determined on and the 
old homestead disposed of, the husband will start with his eldest son 
to the chosen country, which the advisory letters perhaps of some 
former neighbor have pointed out as desirable. Autumn is always the 
preferable time. The journey over, the land selected and secured, the 
husband and son will set to work to prepare a habitation, having first 
informed those left behind of their chosen locality. The letter will 
contain some prudent counsel how to economise time and money in 
making the transit—things of no small moment to persons of moderate 
means. 

The kind neighborly feeling, existing almost universally throughout 
a new country, enables a fresh comer readily to obtain voluntary as¬ 
sistance from those residing within a distance even of ten miles, to 
erect the first buildings, the side-walls and rafters of which are soon 
thrown up, for “ many hands,” the proverb says, “ make light work.” 
One of these enclosures will be finished as a dwelling, the other for a 
shed or barn. This free task of his future neighbors over, they will 
hasten home while daylight continues. The last kindly greetings 
shouted, perhaps out of hearing, and the pioneer and his son will be 
alone in the deep recesses of a vast gloomy forest. But nothing daunt¬ 
ed, they busily employ the remaining light in selecting some suitable 
straight rifting tree of pine or ash, out of which to make the plank for 
their roofing. The tree cut down and into suitable lengths, will be car- 
2 




10 


ried within the wooden log walls of their future home, and afford them 
occupation for many a coming evening in fashioning. The flooring 
has to be laid, the door to be made, the chinking of the interstices of the 
logs to be done, the chimney of laths, tier on tier upraised, duly em¬ 
bedded in clay, and the fire-place made safe by the same material, all 
of which being done, the habitation is ready for the expected arrival 
of the rest of the family. Till this event occurs, no time is lost in 
getting other things prepared for comfort or convenience. The bam 
or shed has to be roofed for the cattle, the future barn-yard enclosed, 
and a thousand other things done, yet the whole stock of tools con¬ 
sists of no more than an axe, a saw, an auger, a hammer, and a few 
nails. But long before all these improvements are completed, winter 
has set in, snow covers the ground, and all the swamps and swales, 
marshes and brooks of the trackless forest, are frozen up, so that trav¬ 
elling becomes possible, which otherwise were impossible. At last the 
remaining part of the family have arrived, to the great comfort and 
delight of the two who have been sustaining the character of hermits. 

The scene before us depicts this arrival. The ox sleigh, loaded with 
furniture,—conspicuously on the top of which is seen the Boston rock¬ 
ing chair,—has preceded the cutter, or family one-horse sleigh. The 
latter has followed in the slow wake of the oxen, through the forest, 
and, judging from the iron kettle hanging on the sleigh’s back, the 
churn and the trunk, much cooking has been performed throughout 
the journey. The churn has held milk, the produce of a cow, pur¬ 
chased perhaps at the last settlement, and the chest has served the 
purpose of a convenient cupboard wherein to store the victuals re¬ 
quired throughout a long journey. 

The family will be soon comfortably installed in their new abode, 
for, judging from the large volume of smoke, a roaring fire is crack¬ 
ling on the hearth. A new home, rich in the treasures of hope, is be¬ 
fore them, and where love and hope illume a hearth, there is happi¬ 
ness. Much labor, however, has to be done before the forest can be 
made to change its character. We will rapidly sketch the routine of 
a year’s occupation. After the family are thus domiciled, as much land 
as is intended for cultivation the ensuing season, is under-brushed and 
girdled. The trees in the immediate vicinity of the dwelling are 
felled, and the leisure of stormy days filled up by making wooden 
troughs to contain the sap of the maple tree. Spring arrives, and 
during the alternations of frost and thaw, the year’s supply of sugar is 
made from the much-prized maple tree. Then comes the sowing of 
wheat and oats, amidst the girdled trees, which are harrowed in by a 


11 


rudely constructed harrow, made out of the crotch or fork of a tree, 
bored with holes and stout plugs of wood driven through for teeth. 
Thus completed, you have a rudely constructed implement of husban¬ 
dry, as fitting as the most ingenious mechanic could invent, and yet it 
has scarcely taken an hour to make. This, dragged by oxen, scatters 
aside the vast accumulation of dried leaves rotting on the ground. 
The pioneer now waits for the promised return of increase. Then 
comes planting of corn and potatoes, wherever a bare spot of earth can 
be found unoccupied by roots of trees. It is done without any re¬ 
gard to straight lines, so that the farming appears of the most slovenly 
description, yet none more fitting can be pursued. Seasons roll on 
their appointed course ; the settler grows old as his prospects brighten, 
for it takes a life of toil before the gloomy aspect of the forest can be 
converted into the cheerful sun-light of the open landscape, but a ca¬ 
reer of humble usefulness, as truly honorable and worthy our homage 
as the warrior’s, blesses and crowns with happiness all those encom¬ 
passed within the circle of his charities. 

A “ Girdled Clearing .” 

We may suppose this to be near the same chosen spot of the former 
view, but taken after an interval, since the arrival of the settlers, of 
some six or seven years. The girdled trees now standing, are few in 
number, so that little remains of them excepting a few of the princi¬ 
pal limbs; all the smaller branches and twigs have rotted and fallen 
off. Whenever spring comes round and frost leaves the ground, many 
of these trees fall prostrate, owing to the decay of the roots. The 
farmer, therefore, has to go into his field with fire, axe, and oxen, to 
remove them, before the land can be ploughed. The men are resting 
for a moment, and are indulging in some tale of gossip, which every 
backwoodsman relishes to hear. The process of girdling is a very 
simple one. A rim of the bark is cut out entirely surrounding the 
tree, so that no sap can for the future ascend. The tree therefore soon 
loses its foliage if it is done while in leaf, but if before spring ar¬ 
rives, no buds ever expand ; the tree consequently dies. This process 
is one very easily accomplished ; a single man being enabled to gir¬ 
dle an acre of the heaviest timbered land in a day ; but although a great 
deal of ground can be thus rapidly brought into culture, yet in the end 
it is more costly than entirely clearing it by “ chopping, logging and 
burning.” 

Thornville , Ohio , through an opening of the Native Forest. 

This summer view portrays the aspect of heavily timbered land. 



12 


The opening enables a pleasing contrast to be seen in connection with 
the gloomy shadows of a forest, for the little hamlet nestles quietly 
amidst a surrounding wilderness. The tall trees, growing closely to¬ 
gether upon a rich alluvial soil, are drawn up by the heats of summer 
as though each tree was struggling with its neighbor for a copious sup¬ 
ply of sun and air. The road accident, representing a broken wagon, 
is of frequent occurrence in the West, owing to bad roads ; but they 
are not considered of much moment, as the skill and ingenuity of a 
western man enables him, by a few withes, as a substitute for ropes, 
and a pole for an axletree, both of which the neighboring woods afford, 
expeditiously to repair the damage so as to proceed in a make-shift 
manner to his destination. 

Thornville, Perry County, Ohio, was first settled about 1810 ; land 
was then so cheap in the neighborhood that a man of the name 
of Beesacker purchased twenty acres for an old black mare ; luckily 
for him, in laying out the county, two important roads intersected his 
purchase. He immediately had it surveyed into town lots, christened 
it New Lebanon, and lo! an embryo town sprung into existence. This 
took place about 1815. Within ten years more it rose to the dignity 
of a post-town ; but as there was a post-office at another village of the 
same name in the Commonwealth, it was rebaptized by the name of 
Thornville, from being situated in the township of Thorn. The first 
villager was Peter Cool, who opened a tavern for the public good, and 
amused his leisure by making chairs for his private emolument. Peter 
is now a man in easy circumstances, and might safely give up busi¬ 
ness, and loll out the rest of existence in one of the easiest of his own 
chairs ; but his generous devotion to the public good still induces him 
to fulfil the hospitable station of Boniface. Almost coeval with the 
tavern of the worthy Peter is the workshop of Israel Penrod, a re¬ 
doubtable blacksmith ; for the tavern keeper and the blacksmith are 
the Jachin and Boaz of a new town in the wilderness. Israel, like 
Peter, remains unchanged by prosperity, and the din of his hammer 
and anvil, which once rang through the forest, now resounds through 
the streets of Thornville. To these primitive fathers of village prosperity 
have succeeded the usual throng of shoemakers, carpenters, tailors, 
store-keepers, lawyers, and doctors, until it has attained a population of 
three hundred and fifty persons, with two churches and two taverns, in 
addition to the patriarchal and public-spirited establishment of Peter 
Cool. It is said, the worthy inhabitants of Thornville take a classical, 
though somewhat pedantic, pride in comparing the original founding of 
their village with that of ancient Carthage—the latter having been en- 


13 


compassed by the hide of Queen Dido’s bull, while Thornville was 
originally comprised within the hide of Beesacker’s black mare. 

Owl Creek , Ohio—an Autumnal View. 

The rich bottom lands of Owl Creek are famous in the Common¬ 
wealth of Ohio. Traversing nearly the entire course of this stream 
there are a succession of wooded plains, in the midst of which once 
existed lakes or ponds, made it is supposed by beaver dams. Through¬ 
out many ages these ponds were the receptacle of all that floods and 
heavy rains floated from the hill sides. A vast accumulation, there¬ 
fore, of vegetable matter, settled at the bottom, has given the drained 
lands rank fertility, which causes them to be highly prized by the 
farmer. 

The stream is gentle in its current, and in many places glimpses of 
the picturesque, lengthening with the charms and beauties of a wind¬ 
ing perspective, make it a famous spot for the artist. We will follow 
along the shore for a short distance to point out some of its beauties. 
Here, high above us, we notice the bright blue sky glistening through in¬ 
terlacing boughs of trees that overarch the rippling waters. Softly the 
stream glides over a pebbly bottom, or leaps with a sparkling light 
against green mossy rocks. Now we come to an umbrageous nook, 
where, on the smooth surface of a dark deep pool, not a ruffle of air 
distorts the mirrored picture. How beautiful it is ! The trees seem 
to hang over it, Narcissus like, enamored of their tall and graceful 
majesty. 

Let us walk through the woods. Now that we are removed from 
the margin of the stream, we are no longer enveloped in a tangled 
mass of underwood. Look above, and mark the towering heights of 
the trees before any limbs spread forth—and there, through yonder 
opening, see the declining sun lights up those scarlet leaves of the 
maple, which autumn has clothed with its well known livery. That 
lower bough, from the dark shadows everywhere surrounding it, has 
the intense brightness of a flame of fire ! Do you notice the patches 
of moss, more or less abundant on every tree ? We know by that 
sign we are travelling southward. Turn round and you can scarcely 
believe we are in the same woods, so free are these forest mon- 
archs from wearing on their sunny sides the mottled robe which 
cloaks their exposed northern one. It is thus the moss serves as a 
compass to hunters on a cloudy day. Hark, a waterfall! Now we 
catch a view of a sunny lake ; but fatal to our romance the measured 
splash of a water-wheel tells us that the wild holiday life of the stream 




14 


is at an end. It has been subdued by mechanical genius to the gain¬ 
ful purposes of man. 

Here, on this prostrate tree, let us rest awhile, and meditate on the 
weary pilgrimage this little stream at our feet has to perform before it 
mingles with the ocean. Thus for fifty miles it pursues its obscure 
and modest course, under its own humble name of Owl Creek. Then 
having formed a junction with the Mohiccon, it is known as White Wo¬ 
man’s Creek for fifty miles more, when it enters the Muskingum. Now 
enlarged into an ample volume, it rolls onwards for ninety miles to 
Marietta, where it unites with the Ohio. Forming a part of this beau¬ 
tiful and majestic river, it winds gracefully but proudly along for eight 
hundred miles further, till it glides into the turbid and overwhelming 
tide of the Mississippi, and then has eleven hundred miles of journey¬ 
ing to make before it empties itself into the Gulf of Mexico ; making 
altogether a pilgrimage of upwards of two thousand miles ! Does not 
your respect for this little pilgrim stream rise, as you learn the great ca¬ 
reer it has to run, and the mighty fellowship in which it has to mingle : 
but such is an emblem of human life ; and many a one who has made 
the most noise in the world, and filled the greatest space in the public 
eye, has had no greater beginning than little Owl Creek. 

A Pine Forest .— Winter. 

The tall straight growth of the pine tree is remarkable. In many 
parts of Upper Canada, these trees attain the height in some instances 
of more than two hundred feet. Their age is also astonishing, for 
they are frequently a thousand years old. This fact may be ascer¬ 
tained by counting the concentric circles after the tree is felled, each 
circle indicating a year’s growth. These forests are valuable for their 
timber and not for their land. The soil is mostly sandy, and the slight 
depth of decayed matter resting on the surface, is soon exhausted of 
its fertility, when the forest is subdued to agricultural purposes. Such 
lands, if cleared and not cultivated, are soon overgrown with young 
oaks. The uniformity of this change has puzzled the thoughtful for 
a theory to account for it. Some are of opinion that acorns have lain 
for ages buried beneath the soil, preserved by the resinous quality of 
the pine leaves which have annually fallen and covered them over. 
Others, that squirrels and birds bring them from the neighboring forests, 
and, leaving them, moisture and the congeniality of soil causes their 
rapid germination. Another idea has been started of soil alone pro¬ 
ducing a spontaneous and new species, without the intermediate agency 


15 


of seed ; a kind of alchemy, which few persons in the present day 
are willing to believe in. 

The tree which has fallen in front of the log bridge, has effectually 
prevented the travellers from proceeding till it is removed; and as persons 
seldom undertake a long journey through the woods without being pro¬ 
vided with an axe, the obstacle is soon moved aside. In most instances 
when trees fall across the track—for in remote districts the highways 
are not worthy the name of roads—they are avoided by going round 
them. In the present instance, the marsh on one side and the frozen 
brook, with the steep banks in front, compel them to use the bridge ; 
and therefore, as they are the first to cross after the barrier has fallen, 
there is no alternative but to cut it away. 

A Cedar Swamp , with a Dioramic effect of approaching night and the 
corruscations of the Fire-Fly. 

Few aspects of the forest are more forbidding in nature than those 
presented to our view in the present picture. The dark and ragged 
character of the foliage of the cedar ; the weeping melancholy droop- 
ings of dank moss, hanging like the shreds of poverty from every de¬ 
cayed or broken limb ; the confused, scattering and tumbling appear¬ 
ance of the trees, some of which with their slimy roots project 
above the pools of brown humus-stained water, and their sides 
covered with thick masses of moss, are all in gloomy unison with 
each other. Yet such places are coveted by the prudent farmer, for 
although it takes an age to subdue the land to a verdant meadow, yet 
by drainage and judicious management the swamp is finally a valuable 
grass field. In a climate like ours, low land to a farm is essential, for 
in dry summers the upland pastures are sure to become parched and 
burnt up, when the only herbage to be obtained for cattle is to be found 
in such reclaimed swamps as the one before us. In the meanwhile, 
the durability of the cedar tree timber forms no small item of its utility 
for fences. A common mode of speech in the West, conveying the 
idea of permanence, is the saying, “ as eternal as a cedar fence.” 

Bears, wolves, and foxes prefer the seclusion which the recesses of 
a swamp afford ; they are also inhabited by snakes, toads, and lizzards; 
but as if to atone for this congregation of wild and hideous denizens of the 
forest, nature has made it the abode of the sparkling, beautiful little fire¬ 
fly, which, as soon as night begins to enshroud the earth with her dark 
mantle, may be seen flitting about in countless myriads, lighting up every 
object with their bright corruscations of phosphorous light. However 
numerous the representation may appear of these sparkling insects 



16 


now in motion, in the mimic scene before us, they are not exaggerated 
in number from those seen in nature. We notice the morning dawns. 

An Oak Opening. 

After having passed over a region tff country extending from the 
Atlantic a thousand miles westward, once covered with a heavy growth 
of forest timber, of which the six preceding illustrations will enable 
you to form a tolerably correct idea, we come to a region where the 
timber ceases to grow so compactly together. These places are gen¬ 
erally called plains or openings. The one before us is composed of 
oak, and is therefore called an oak plain or opening. The little piece 
of blue distance in the picture is, in nature, after a long sojourn in the 
gloom and shadow of a deep forest, inconceivably delightful. The 
mind, on coming to such a landscape, seems to expand and partake of 
the sunny aspect of the scene around. With very little effort of the 
imagination, we may in these regions suppose ourselves to be wander¬ 
ing amidst copses of trees planted for ornamental purposes. 

The incident represented of travellers halting, is intended for a 
group of emigrants from the Southern States. The sorry and jaded 
plight of the norses, the ragged dress and the absence of household 
furniture, show the travellers to have been poor, but who are now 
seeking a home in a new State, devoid of everything excepting a few 
cooking utensils and their wagon and horses. The contrast in provi¬ 
dent habits, intelligence, and education, of the emigrant from the New 
England States, and the one from the slave States, is very marked. 

The first scene exhibited this evening, and the present one, there¬ 
fore, form strong contrasts to each other. 

The Burning Prairie . 

Westward of the regions of the forest and wooded plains, we come 
to the open prairie, where in some parts one may ride day after day, 
over a plain of unbounded fertility, without meeting a human being ; 
where the sun rises out of the green grass, courses through the heav¬ 
ens, to set again behind a similar horizon. In other districts the prai¬ 
ries rise one above another in vast plateaus or sterile plains. Some¬ 
times the country is like an ocean, when its heaving waters have 
slightly subsided after the fury of a tempest. There is the same 
undulating outline of waving surface, the same boundless and monoto¬ 
nous expanse ; while far in the distance appear islands of trees, altered 
by the mirage of the atmosphere, so as to resemble land looming over a 
misty horizon of water; swell after swell, island after island succeed 


17 



as you travel onward, till the mind becomes wearied in contemplating 
the pulseless solitude. 

The burnings of these prairies, which occur almost every autumn,, 
are extremely terrific, especially in the rich bottom lands, where the 
rank luxuriance of the soil matures a tall growth of grass, flowers and 
weeds five or six feet high. In such places and at such times, death is 
inevitable if found within their precincts. Even birds sometimes fail of 
escaping above the fierce blasts of the flame, which rise up with great 
suddenness, and flash and leap many yards in advance of that which 
burns along the surface. The scene before us is an upland prairie on 
fire where escape is possible. The Indians and horses, antelopes and 
bisons, are therefore striving with might and main to reach some 
neighboring bluff or river to escape from the general conflagration. 

Moon Rise on the Prairie. 

• We have here a representation of a party of hunters securely shel¬ 
tered under a ledge of rocks, where a small stream and a neighboring 
copse of trees afford them both water and fire-wood. The party is 
composed of three persons, an Eastern man, a Kentuckian and an In¬ 
dian. The two latter have caught the sound of feet, and are prepared 
for a surprise either of game or an enemy. We perceive, however, the 
cause of their alarm to be a herd of bisons coming over the brow of 
the hill. These hunting expeditions are full of exciting adventure. 
Those who have read Ruxton’s tour to the Rocky Mountains, must 
have been much interested in his narrative. The fearless energy and 
fortitude a slender, genteel young man, accustomed to all the refine¬ 
ments of London society, displayed during many months’ wanderings 
in the remote West, is most surprising. Nothing daunted by his 
former perils and dangers, he ventured once more, and proceeded on 
his journey as far as St. Louis, where sudden illness seized him and 
terminated in his death. Mr. Harvey became acquainted with this 
gentleman while in London, and found him accomplished, courteous, 
polite, and refined, and to judge from his fair and handsome visage, he 
could not have numbered more than twenty-four summers. 

A Sedgy Marsh after Sunset. 

In many places these marshes are very extensive, and are at pres¬ 
ent perfectly valueless, yet if combined capital, under the direction of 
competent engineers, was employed in draining them, the land would 
become of more value in many instances than that covered by heavy 
forest timber. The marshes, for instance, through which the outlet of 
Cayuga and Seneca Lakes takes its course, are of the character here 
3 


18 


represented. The ignis fatui, or u will-o’-the-wisp, ” seen in the cor¬ 
ner, may be frequently observed on a calm evening in such places, 
when a sultry sun has fermented the luminous gas from a mass of de¬ 
cayed vegetable matter stagnating beneath. 

A Beaver Dam and Colony. 

The early records of the scenery, resources and curiosities of this 
country, are all more or less tinctured with the marvellous. In search¬ 
ing amidst the vast accumulation of books and manuscripts preserved 
in the British Museum, Mr. Harvey met with some startling and won¬ 
derful accounts written by one of the first travellers who had pene¬ 
trated into the interior. Everything he described was gigantic, aston¬ 
ishing or marvellous. For instance, the habits and instincts of the 
beaver were all overlaid with the romance of his imagination. He rep¬ 
resented them as imbued with reasoning powers, and living in a state 
of society where they acknowledged a chief or king, and a degree of 
moral order subsisted superior to that observed by the aboriginal na¬ 
tives of the country. He described them also as building houses two 
and three stories high, with underground streets, and storehouses where 
their provident habits caused them to lay up provisions for their win¬ 
ter’s sustenance. The prosaic facts, the simple unadorned truths, how¬ 
ever, when duly narrated, deprives them of such intelligent powers. 
Some beavers in peculiar situations, where there is a suitable bank of 
clayey loam, will,—instead of constructing the dome-covered habitations, 
such as are represented in the picture before us,—excavate a few cells, 
which they line with leaves, and sometimes connect with others above 
or on the side. They seem also to have an idea of the rights of prop¬ 
erty, for if a depredation is committed, a quarrel will ensue, and others 
of the colony will sometimes assist in punishing the delinquent. These 
facts seem to be the foundation on which the writer in question has 
built up his superstructure of marvels, at least as far as streets, houses 
and moral government is concerned. Their instinct of constructive¬ 
ness,—as the phrenologist would term it,—as exemplified in fashioning 
their round dome habitations of stakes, wattles and mud, is extremely 
curious, but perhaps not more so than is manifested by many birds. 

When a colony of young beavers find it necessary to emigrate from 
the parent stock, some sagacious old one will wander the country, in 
quest of a suitable stream whereon to commence their labors of con¬ 
structing a dam. This determined on, the time of departure for the 
emigrants arrives, but it is doubtful if there is any leave-taking or de¬ 
monstration of regret as with mankind, but which has been most pa¬ 
thetically described by the writer in question. They arrive at the se- 


19 


lected stream and forthwith commence their labors by erecting a dam. 
Nature has furnished them with four incisor teeth peculiarly adapted to 
their wants, for, by gnawing asunder any suitable tree inclining from the 
bank, and then, after it has fallen, dividing it into suitable lengths, these 
logs are guided down the stream, till, reaching the fitting place, they are 
securely lodged, generally where some projecting rocks afford strong 
abutments. The first logs thus placed, branches, twigs and leaves are 
stuffed in below, and covered with stones and mud till it is made water¬ 
tight, so that the stream flows over ; other logs are then added. The 
same process is continued, and when the required height is obtained 
they proceed with the construction of their dwellings near the water’s 
edge. Having chosen the shelter of some leafy group of trees, to pro¬ 
tect them from the fierce sun of summer, they force into the earth in a 
circular form a number of upright stakes, which they wattle together 
with twigs and sticks, plastering them well with mud as they proceed, 
bending the topmost over so as to form a dome. The whole is then 
coated over by degrees with mud to the thickness of a foot or more. 
Thus they have a habitation tolerably secure from the-intrusion of all 
but man. The communication is scooped out with their fore paws, 
which are webbed, and are as suitable for such purposes of digging 
and plastering as a mason’s trowel. The passage is always made to 
terminate some distance beneath the water. 

It is supposed by naturalists, that the use of the pond, is,—as Paddy 
would observe,—for a play ground, for the beaver delights in gambolling 
and frolicking in still water. The view before us lies on one of the 
tributaries of the Thames, in Western Canada, and is represented in 
the spring of the year. 

The same View in Autumn , after drainage and cultivation. 

The early settlers of the country soon found out a great desirable¬ 
ness in the improvements made by the industrious and sagacious 
beaver, for, by some two or three hours’ work bestowed in removing a 
portion of the dam, the pond was easily drained, and after a few warm 
or windy days have elapsed frequently many hundred acres, latent with 
an inexhaustible fertility, would be ready for the plough ; besides 
many other advantages, no unsightly stumps or rugged inequality marred 
the prospect, and the laborious process of clearing the land of heavy 
forest timber, which in former years once encumbered it, was already 
done to their hands. No wonder that these spots were eagerly sought 
after by the first colonists, prompting many a courageous settler to 
venture beyond the safe limits of the settlement. In those days, beaver 
fur was very valuable, so that the Indians drove a brisk trade in catcht 


20 


ing the beaver. The knowledge the natives had of such spots was 
therefore never revealed till these animals had all been caught, when 
they exacted their own terms for the information. The class of per¬ 
sons who generally bought such places, were the affluent and edu¬ 
cated, whose station in life entitled them to respect, and who were 
capable of taking with them a number of hired hands, and to incur the 
expense of surrounding their dwellings and outhouses with a stockade. 
Thus fortified, their homes were secure against surprise, or the prowl¬ 
ing treachery of some Indian enemy. 

When maize corn is planted on these reclaimed lands, the yield is 
almost marvellous. The proprietor, as drawn in the picture, seems 
astonished, for he is holding up an ear in admiration, and the two hired 
men seem cheerily and busily at work in cutting up and stacking the 
stalks. 

A Scene amidst the Alleghany Mountains; a cloudy Day. 

These mountains extend along the whole Eastern coast of America, 
at various distances, from fifty to a hundred and fifty miles from the 
Atlantic Ocean. The same range of mountains may be said to extend 
across the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea, the West India 
Islands being regarded as the tops. All west beyond this range and 
between the Rocky Mountains, near the Pacific, is regarded as the 
broad valley of the Mississippi. 

Mr. Harvey, in his lectures in Great Britain, drew the attention of 
his auditors, on some occasions, to the advantages these mountains af¬ 
ford to such as had capital, and could live for a few years without an 
immediate return of the money invested. In the Southern parts some 
of the slopes are peculiarly adapted to vineyards. The wine made 
from the native grape, when properly manufactured, resembles the 
best Rhenish, such for instance as the Johannisburgh brands. In the 
North, when the forest which uniformly clothes them is removed, the 
soil yields a pasturage for sheep well calculated to their nature, and at 
the same time the herbage imparts a fine flavor to their meat. The 
portions lying in the valleys could be converted into meadows, which 
would afford grass for mowing, so that sufficient winter fodder could be 
secured when snow covered the ground. Many districts can be pur¬ 
chased for a mere nominal price. 

An abandoned Clearing in West Canada. 

This sketch was made during Mr. Harvey’s last visit in Canada. 
The spot for the dwelling was well chosen for settlement, a spring of 
pure water bubbled up not far from the door, a little rill meandered 


21 


over a slightly undulating surface, the neighborhood seemed to be 
healthy, and the tall growth of deciduous timber indicated an inex¬ 
haustible fertility of soil. It was also situated on one of the prin¬ 
cipal roads, called Dundass street; but no settlement was nearer than 
five miles, a dense wilderness everywhere surrounded it. There 
would be no difficulty in imagining a story to account for the desertion, 
but throughout these lectures a faithful observance of facts and things 
has ruled ; fiction therefore would be out of place, were such to be at¬ 
tempted in the present instance. The ground seems never to have 
been broken up, though for the most part it was cleared of its forest 
timber. The roots of two trees, sticking up at least ten feet perpen¬ 
dicularly, show where the wind has done its work. Such spots are 
difficult to reduce into a trim appearance. The hollow tree near the 
woodman resting, has been charred by fire, which burned as it would 
in a chimney, and consumed the upper part. The long stump, some 
ten or twelve feet high, puzzled the artist exceedingly to account for 
its height. How could it have been cut at so great an elevation from 
the ground ? He ventured the question, and was quizzed by being told 
that the tree was cut in the winter when the snow was that deep. The 
solution of the mystery, however, is simply this. When the forest 
tree is deprived of the shelter of its neighbors, they are very apt to be 
blown down by the first high wind, and then, if the top boughs should 
be cut off, thus freed, the elasticity of the roots will frequently nearly 
restore them to their pristine position. Such was the case in this in¬ 
stance. The bushes which have overrun the ground after it was neg¬ 
lected, are the red Antwerp raspberry. The spontaneous growth of 
these bushes on such neglect occurring, is a very remarkable fact, and 
is somewhat similar to the one mentioned in regard to the oak taking 
the place of the pine ; it is, however, less perplexing to the philoso¬ 
pher to account for, since it is well known that birds are very fond of 
the raspberry, and as the seeds are not easily digested, the clearing, in 
the course of one or two years, may be soon strewed over. In some 
of these abandoned settlements, bushels and bushels of the largest and 
most deliciously flavored berry could be gathered. 

Fishing by torch light on Lake Ontario . 

The scene before us belongs to one of those reminiscences to which 
the artist never recurs without a thrill of pleasure, verifying the aphor¬ 
ism of the poet, that 

“ A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” 

The picture represents a calm moonlight night, at the season when 



22 


all nature clothes herself in a robe of loveliness, for summer was at 
hand. The air was delightfully balmy, and the first note of the whip- 
poor-will was heard rushing through the serene atmosphere, proclaim¬ 
ing that warm weather, for the next few months, was indeed to rule. 

The canoes which lined the woody shores of Lake Ontario near 
Burlington Bay, on the present occasion, numbered at least a hundred, 
all with blazing fires placed high on their prows, flickering their rip¬ 
pling light, in many a lengthened column, on the surface of the quiet 
lake. It seemed as though every settler, residing near the shores, 
had, with one consent, joined in a festival of sport to spear the migra¬ 
tory salmon. Man and wife strove emulously together in the task, the 
former, with gaze intent, looking into the watery deep for his prey, 
and the latter, in paddling a devious course wherever glistening scales 
revealed a fish. The scene was truly gay and animated, and, from 
its novelty, seemed like those marvels of enchantment recorded in 
Eastern fables. 


Drawing out Stumps. 

This is a sure indication that the farmer takes some pride in the ap¬ 
pearance of his land, and wishes to see his fields with a smooth and 
tidy surface. In many districts, laboring men obtain their living by 
having one of these stump extractors—such as is represented in the 
view before us. They, for the most part, contract to remove these 
relics of the forest, at so much per stump. The price varies from 
ten to twenty cents each, depending on the facility of removal. If the 
roots are thoroughly decayed, the lesser sum will compensate, but if 
the clearing is so recent as not to have permitted this rotting to occur, 
the larger sum is not too much. The process is to move the machine 
over the stump to be extracted, when one end of a large ox chain is 
thrust under a root, and then hooked to the link of the other part hang¬ 
ing loose. Thus secured, the oxen are started, and they being fastened 
to the rope passing round the large wheel, an immense power is ob¬ 
tained, and so the stump is drawn out. These stumps are afterwards 
made to serve the purpose of a fence, as seen beyond the oxen. 

The pretty little village in the distance, nestled amidst hills, and the 
church, with its pointed spire, are indications of habits where comfort 
and serious thought characterize its people. The scene lies in Vermont. 

An Escarpment of Rocks near Harper's Ferry , Va. 

Mr. Jefferson was so delighted with the mountainous scenery near 
Harper’s Ferry, as to pronounce the pleasure its contemplation afford¬ 
ed, as worthy a voyage across the Atlantic. There are few localities 



where the picturesque is so abundant within a limited range, as that 
part near where the Shenandoah and Potomac unite. The present 
view is a wood station on the banks of the latter river. Owing to the 
abrupt declivities and precipitous rocks skirting the stream, few oppor¬ 
tunities present themselves for making a road down the mountain’s 
side, and the geological formation, presenting many places where the 
rocks are ruptured in a perpendicular direction, permits the owners of 
the woodland on the summit to throw down their timber when cut into 
“ cord wood.” One of these 41 wood chutes,” as they are called, is 
seen in the present view. 

The principal market for this firewood is at Washington. 

The Remains of Table Rock , with a portion of the Horse Shoe Fall , 

Niagara. 

To illustrate American scenery, without including the marvel of the 
continent—the mighty cataract of Niagara—would be like omitting the 
character of Hamlet from the play of that name. But no mimic scene 
can adequately convey just ideas of its grandeur and sublimity. Even 
in nature the scene fails to realize the sentiments of vastness, which 
the imagination delights to conjure up from the published description 
various travellers have delighted the world with. In the language of 
Byron, it may be said that, 

“ Its grandeur overwhelms thee not, 

And why ? It is not lessened ; but thy mind, 

Expanded by the genius of the spot, 

Has grown colossal. 5 ' 

The present view was selected, owing to a remark which r a leading 
statesman of the British Cabinet was pleased to make—when Mr. Har¬ 
vey was showing the contents of his port folio—that the sketch from 
which this view was taken, 4 ‘ was the only representation he had seen, 
conveying any just idea of its sublimity.” The Indian standing in an 
attitude of rapt admiration, in bold relief, on the pinnacle of a fallen 
mass of rock, serves as an object whereby we grade or measure the 
vastness of the scene, and as only a portion of the Fall is taken in, the 
mind is left free to imagine the great extent unrepresented. 

A New York Packet Ship amidst Icebergs on the Banks of New¬ 
foundland, in the Spring of the Year. 

The present view was taken by Mr. Harvey, when he made a return 
voyage in the splendid packet ship Victoria. For several days we 
were in the midst of these vast frozen islands of ice, drifting out of 
Davis’s Straits, and during the whole time the Captain would not per- 



mit himself to take more than a few brief periods of rest. We were 
in a region of danger, but fortunately for us the weather was most pro¬ 
pitious, for we had a clear atmosphere, a fresh breeze, and a full moon; 
but had fog or darkness surrounded us, the perils would have been 
imminent. The next view represents the icebergs in the place of 
their formation, in autumn. 

A Whaling Vessel at anchor in the Polar Regions. 

The present view is the only one for which Mr. Harvey stands in¬ 
debted to other eyes than his own. It is from an oil painting by a 
French artist of the name of Gebe. 

The scene represents the icebergs in autumn, after the warmth of 
summer has melted the frozen masses into many grotesque forms. 
The preceding picture showed great rounded promontories, sloping 
hills and precipitous cliffs. The trickling thaw has melted the solid 
water which has run wherever a slope permitted its descent. Water, 
as it is a better conductor of heat than the surrounding air, has melted 
the ice more rapidly than the other parts not so acted on. These little 
rivulets, therefore, have fashioned the bergs into pinnacles and pointed 
craigs, and in some places, where they have fallen over and lodged 
against others, they have formed arches, galleries and caverns. 

The rocky cliffs against which the icebergs were once frozen fast, are 
now naked and bare. In some regions cliffs are more than a thousand 
feet high, and a mountain slope, in many instances, continues its 
soaring range till lost in the region of perpetual ice. Against the sides 
of these cliffs, such waters as the revolving sun sets free, are frozen 
fast on the northern side. The accumulation goes on, year after year, 
till the mass becomes so ponderous as to break from its fastness, and, 
if the water at the base of the cliff is sufficiently deep, it floats with 
the polar current described in the opening of the exhibition, and is 
carried southward, where, mingling with the warm waters of the Gulf 
Stream, they soon melt away. 

A dioramic effect has been gradually taking place, showing in the 
thickening gloom of evening, the gradual uprising of the auroral arch, 
and soon you will witness the corruscations of streamers—merry 
dancers, they are called,—flashing continuously beneath. 


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